


Taste For Affection

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis had never really asked for affection as he grew up. That didn’t stop Gladio from giving it.





	Taste For Affection

“You doing okay?” 

The little touches of affection and attention had been commented on before. When they were young— before Gladiolus was taken into the Crownsguard academy and the subsequent tenure in the cadets, before Noctis was left scarred and shaken by a Niflheim attack— there was chatter around the Citadel that they were going to be raised together, as if they were brothers. There was even a picture, somewhere safe in his father’s Citadel study and another on his desk at home, of Gladio and Noctis together as children. A picture of them as they had been meant to be raised, Gladio’s arms around the toddler prince, beaming for the camera as he held the heir to the Lucian throne like a wide-eyed little toy. Like a chubby little brother with big blue eyes and an infectious smile. 

Before the Queen had died, and the before the city mourned, and the Prince pulled under the careful protections of a scared King. Before he had a little sister to dote on, to shower with affections and protections. 

Before the closeness that everyone— their parents, the kingdom— had expected of them faded with distance. He still remembered, whenever he visited his father’s office, the softness of Noctis in his own small arms, and the squirming Prince begging for cuddles with outstretched hands.

Gladio had learnt after years of brief visits and formal events, that Noctis was touch-starved. Not that Ignis had never indulged the prince (he could hardly say no to the prince), but age and training and the years of expectations and propriety had dulled Noctis’ willingness to ask. To reach out to the companion chosen for him. 

Hell, Gladio hadn’t realised that the Prince was okay with being touched at all until he felt the younger man— a teen now, growing like a weed but always a head shorter than him— lean into the briefest celebratory hug after a difficult new strike was mastered. There had always been an aloofness to the Prince, a distance between them he thought was just part of the kid’s bratty nature. A wedge between what they used to be, and what they were. 

Now, here in the quiet of the Prince’s apartment, Gladio could only smile. 

Ignis had left hours ago, Prompto on his heels with an excuse and a cheerful smile. There had been reminders and warnings, promises of an early night and an earlier rise, even as Noctis settled in with a game controller in hand and a cheeky smile. Gladio had offered his acknowledgement of Ignis’ warnings with a look over the edge of his book and a solemn nod, a gruff ‘got it’ even as the door latched into place. 

Somewhere around midnight— with the glare of the lights outside, the shimmer of the Wall overhead, thrown against the apartment walls to bathe the room in light Gladio’s little lamp had no hope of competing with— Noctis wormed his way onto the couch beside him. The controller abandoned to the coffee table, next to reports and drinks and plates of scraps they had picked at after dinner. The television dark, but reflecting the advertisement lights from beyond the wide windows. 

Gladio had watched as Noctis moved. As the Prince pulled the curtains closed and gathered up the plates. He had smiled as he listened to the water in the kitchen run, and the porcelain chimed as Noctis did the minimum promised to Ignis before returning to the living room. 

“I’m okay,” Noctis muttered, snuggling as close as he dared— and being a Prince, he was quite daring.

Arm lifted to accommodate Noctis, Gladio let himself be moved and manoeuvred like an over-sized pillow. He didn’t bother to hide the grin as Noctis shimmied and shuffled until his head rested on a shoulder, his arms around his Shield’s waist to hold him in place. Their legs tangled and Gladio let himself indulge in an affectionate kiss to Noctis’ hair once the position had been decided on. 

The sofa was too narrow for the two of them, the weight of the Prince too heavy on his chest after a heavy dinner and a night of drinking with his friends, the cushions already shifting to buckle against them. In another hour, the awkwardness would be unbearable. There was a soft twinge of guilt as he thought of turning Noctis away, settling his arm around the smaller form instead in silent apology for the thought. He could feel the subtle rise and fall of the Prince’s breath against him, the warm tickle of it against his chest. 

“Good,” Gladio adjusted his book, propped the pages open with one hand while the other rested on the small of Noctis’ back— a useless gesture to keep him in place; “I’m a bit ahead of where we left off.”

“That’s fine.”

“Want me to bring you up to speed?”

“Unless you want me asking stupid questions.”

“You do that anyway.”

“No I don’t.”

He let his hand slip beneath Noctis’ shirt, to rest on the warm skin beneath. “You only missed a couple of weddings and two murders.”

“You said you’d only read ahead one chapter!”

“It was an exciting chapter. The princess is still alive, it was the court spymasters who were murdered.”

“Good. At least one of them was an ass. Now what happens?”

In a few hours, they would be too warm to stay as they were. The awkward fall of the cushions and the heat of them together would drive Noctis to squirming and whining and picking at their clothes in a not-so-subtle hint. In a few hours, the lights breaking through seams in the curtains, and the incessant drip of the kitchen faucet, would grate on both their tired nerves. 

At that time, Gladio would dog-ear whatever page they ended up on, and he’d wriggle his way up to sitting while Noctis pouted. There would be a kiss and a smile, and a ruffle of messy hair with promises pressed between their lips. And Gladio would grin as he scooped Noctis up off his feet on the way to the bedroom for the rest of the night. 

But for now, they had the sofa, and no space between them. For now, Noctis’ breath warmed his chest, and the Prince felt safe in his arms, as his voice filled the apartment with stories of a court intrigue that was far more interesting than the day-to-day of the Citadel politics. 

Noctis never asked for the quiet little moments of cuddling like this, lulled to a doze by a story he barely kept up with. Gladio never thought twice about throwing an arm around the younger man, about dragging him close and smiling as the Prince blushed under the attention. Noctis no longer reached out to him with wide eyes and pleas for affection, but he never turned the attention away, or leaned away from the embraces when offered. 

At least, Gladio could say, Noctis had learnt not to be afraid to ask now.


End file.
